Shattered
by iamdelilah
Summary: AU. Storybrooke's curse was never broken and Jefferson had trouble accepting the fact that he would never have his daughter as he once did. As Jefferson became tangled in a world of his own despair, Killian Jones was the only one that saw any hope for Jefferson's situation.
1. Chapter 1

When Jefferson ventured outside to collect the mail on the cold December evening he certainly wasn't prepared to be accompanied by anything other than the crisp, bitter air. He certainly didn't expect a strong, firm grip to wrap around his wrist on his way down the front steps. He spun on his heel slowly, meeting the familiar blue eyes that always seemed to mirror his own.

"Killian."

"Hatter."

"You know I don't like to be called that."

"Well Jeff, how—"

"It is _Jefferson_," he spat, "or nothing at all. Do not _call me_ Jeff." He always hated the shortening of his name, thought it made him sound older than he was. Jefferson seemed to have a ring to it. A certain air of class, even.

Killian spoke softer this time. "Sweetheart…"

Jefferson's eyes broke away, his hostile facade failing just the slightest bit as he felt Killian's stare through his entire being. "What do you want?"

"You," he said simply.

Jefferson didn't really have room to argue. He was alone as always and the company couldn't hurt. Although he didn't know what exactly Killian was after, he had some idea.

They walked through the entry to the living room and past the grand piano to the hallway, his boots clacking on the hard wood floor. The walls were covered in luxurious champagne wallpaper with a subtle diamond accent. Dark frames hung in a grid formation and dark, heavy drapes framed the window on the far wall.

"Not even going to offer me tea?"

"You and I both know you aren't here for the tea."

Jefferson flipped the bedroom light on. This room was decorated much like the rest of the house: elaborately but with few personal touches. The bedroom was wallpapered in a white and black damask print, the headboard on the bed completely mirrored. A black chandelier replaced the traditional light fixture and the bed sheets were jet black.

"Your rate's the same I s'pose?"

"Hasn't gone up in four months," Jefferson said flatly.

Killian never understood it, why Jefferson did this. He was unsure if Jefferson was simply so lonesome he would accept the company of strange men in his bedroom. Killian knew it was partially for the money. Although Jefferson had the mansion Regina gifted to him a great deal of cash money was necessary to keep Jefferson's habit going. It was known throughout Storybrooke that Jefferson was a man to stay away from. He had the calmest demeanor but could snap at any given time. Doctor Hopper had informally diagnosed him with manic depression but refused to prescribe Jefferson any sort of medication, knowing that he'd only abuse it. And it isn't like Jefferson would have accepted help if someone offered it to him.

Recreational drugs were never Jefferson's thing until he completely lost hope in everything he knew. After Emma left Storybrooke everyone lost hope. Most of them moved on but Jefferson never recovered. Grace was gone and there was no hope of getting her back. Jefferson didn't see why there was any reason to try and rebuild any sort of life for himself without his daughter. Eventually he stopped watching her. He knew she was in good hands of good people who could give her everything and he felt hopeless.

"Are you ready?" Jefferson asked, pulling Killian from his thoughts. He turned, surprised to find Jefferson completely undressed, his pile of dark clothing lying in the corner on the floor. The scarf that concealed the scar on his neck was gone and Killian couldn't tear his eyes away from it long enough to look at another part of Jefferson's naked body.

Killian removed his pea coat, tossing it across the armchair. He toed off his shoes, peeled his socks off. He felt Jefferson's eyes on his body as he unzipped his jeans and slid them off. Apparently he was taking too long because Jefferson crossed the room and reached down, grabbing the hem of Killian's t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

"How do you want me?" Jefferson asked, holding back a sigh, as if he didn't know the routine. Killian never changed his methods, yet every time they got together Jefferson asked. He figured it was best to make sure his client got what he paid for.

Killian laid down, propped back against the pillows on Jefferson's bed and beckoned him with outstretched arms, one hand grasping the bottle of lube that Jefferson had sat out.

"Ah. Of course." Jefferson nodded. With a tiny smirk on his lips that formed out of malice more than anything else, he crossed the room, climbing onto the bed and slinging a leg over Killian's thighs. He felt a slick finger slide across his entrance teasingly.

"Tell me what you plan to do to me," Killian directed softly.

Jefferson groaned, pushing himself down onto Killian's slick finger. He hit his lip, rocking his hips just the slightest. He had to admit that this was his favorite part of the nights he spent with Killian. Jefferson _loved_ the feeling of Killian's long fingers probing his walls. Loved the feeling of being stretched wide by Killian's hand alone.

"First," Jefferson began, "I'm going to let you finger me, stretch me so damned wide, get my ass nice and open for you." He felt a second finger join the first one and rejoiced silently, letting his eyes fall closed.

Killian leaned forward, pressing teasing kisses to Jefferson's clavicle. "Do you like this?" he whispered between kisses, setting his free hand on Jefferson's belly.

"It's alright," Jefferson breathed, nodding. He never quite understood but it was as if Killian could get off on pleasing Jefferson. It didn't matter much what he did for himself. As long as his companion seemed to enjoy it, Killian could wait. Jefferson pushed himself down onto Killian's fingers greedily, taking all they would give until it wasn't enough.

"Another," Jefferson demanded.

Killian complied. He reached for the lube, brought it behind Jefferson's hips, slicked his ring finger and slid it in next to his other two. Jefferson finally moaned at that and leaned forward, kissing along Killian's bearded jaw until he reached the small earring dangling from his ear. Jefferson smirked, flicking his tongue across it before pulling them into his mouth. His lips closed around Killian's earlobe and he sucked playfully, his teeth grazing the skin.

Jefferson whimpered as Killian thrusted his fingers in quick jerky movements. He was loosening up rapidly, as he always did, and his knees dug into the mattress, unrelenting. He released Killian's earlobe, lifting off his fingers and sliding down to kneel between Killian's legs. He reached out, wrapping his thin fingers around the base of Killian's cock.

"Our agreement," Killian reminded him quietly.

Jefferson nodded. "You want your cock in my mouth? Shoved down my throat?" he asked, flicking his tongue across the head.

"Sweetheart," he said impatiently. "Please... come on."

Jefferson moaned around him and took Killian into his mouth completely, sucking him deeper. Killian reached down to guide Jefferson's head as it moved, fingers tangling in his quaffed dark hair.

"God, that's good," he murmured, thrusting into Jefferson's mouth gently as he threw his head back. Jefferson hollowed his cheeks completely, taking hold of Killian's hips and letting him thrust as his tongue hugged the underside of the thick, heavy cock.

In a moment of uncontrollable lust Killian pulled out and grabbed his cock, slapping it against Jefferson's lips. "You like this. You love it, don't you?"

"I love it," Jefferson said quietly. Whether that statement had any validity to it or not was another question entirely. He ran his tongue up and down the length and finally worked Killian in his mouth inch by inch, running his tongue along the veins, until his nose was at his groin, the coarse pubic hair tickling his cheeks.

"My god. Oh, you are _good_ at that," Killian chuckled dryly. He thrusted into Jefferson's mouth relentlessly and could feel himself being buried in Jefferson's throat. "So good," he panted. Killian pushed Jefferson back, his cock falling from those pouty lips with a slick pop.

"Come," Killian beckoned.

Jefferson did so obediently, climbing up to straddle Killian's lap once more. He heard the distinct snap of the lube cap and several moments later felt the same three fingers push inside of his loose ass once more. He groaned at the feeling and wrapped his arms around Killian's neck to steady himself. In all honesty Jefferson hated that Killian was so gentle. It was almost as if they were lovers. One could call them that in a sense, but they weren't. Killian was a paying customer. It's just that it was much easier for Jefferson to do this exchange with him because Killian was considerate of Jefferson's delicate state, so to speak.

Jefferson leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to Killian's dry lips. He pulled back, his own mouth turning up at the corners easily.

"You're waiting," he concluded, receiving a nod from Killian. "Alright. Well, first, I'm gonna ride you at a maddeningly slow pace; I know how much that gets you off, sitting under me as my ass slides up and down your cock."

Killian chuckled and moved his fingers once more. A throaty moan slipped from Jefferson's lips and his blunt nails dug into Killian's shoulder. They sat in relative silence for several minutes as Killian worked his fingers deeper inside of Jefferson's ass, twisting them and thrusting them as deep as they could go in this position. He was already sufficiently stretched but Killian enjoyed making sure his recipient got _something_ out of this exchange.

"I'm good," Jefferson muttered after a while.

"I know," Killian whispered. As he lined himself up with Jefferson's hole he slipped his fingers out and lifted them to Jefferson's mouth to taste. Jefferson did so obediently, pulling Killian's fingers into his mouth and ran his tongue over them. As slutty as it was, Jefferson had to admit he loved to admit that he loved the taste of Killian's skin mixed with lube and ass. He whimpered, desperately wiggling on Killian's lap.

"Fuck me," he begged.

"I intend to," Killian chuckled. He gripped Jefferson's hips as he thrusted in, giving Jefferson little time to adjust because it wasn't necessary. He was nice and slick and _loose_.

"Talk," Killian purred softly as Jefferson's hand started working at his own hard cock. And in all honesty, this confused Jefferson. He never knew why Killian treated him with so much respect, but then would ask for him to say things that weren't exactly the truth. \

Nonetheless, Jefferson nodded. "Love this, love your dick, when you fuck me and when you ram into my tight ass," he moaned, head thrown back. "Love it when I ride you," he added with a grunt.

Killian groaned at the sound of Jefferson's voice and Jefferson took over. He reached behind Killian, steading himself on the headboard. He did his best not to look at his reflection in the mirrored furniture as he rocked desperately on Killian's cock.

Killian panted and met Jefferson's movements in the middle, thrusting into him roughly as fingers dug into Jefferson's flesh hard enough to bruise. The only noises in the room were the slapping of their thighs together and mixed and mingled grunts. Jefferson felt himself getting closer and an arm left the headboard, hooking around Killian's neck. He buried his face in Killian's shoulder, biting down on the thick flesh as he came. Killian followed shortly after, letting out a strangled cry as Jefferson clamped down around him and spilled inside of Jefferson, his nails scratching his hips.

Jefferson pushed off of him with a grunt, falling to the side of the bed. He definitely wasn't high enough for this. He was still coming down from his orgasm and his legs wavered as he walked over to the dresser. He grabbed the plastic card, then remembered that he hadn't been to Gold to purchase lately and opted for a few of the pain killers he bought under the table from Ruby.

"Jefferson," Killian whispered.

"Hm?" Jefferson replied, tossing the pills back with a swig of water from the glass that had been sitting there for days.

"Would- would you like me to stay?" Killian asked quietly as he slipped back into his clothes.

"You've never stayed before. Why would you stay this time?"

"All alone in this mansion... You seem like you could use some company."

Jefferson glanced over his shoulder before turning back to the mirrored dresser. "Why would I need that?"

"I'm trying I reach out to you."

"Excuse me for being a little put off," Jefferson spat. "I just let you fuck me for money. I'm not exactly in the mood to cuddle."

"You don't have to let me. You don't have to let anyone do that if you don't want to. You've got choices here, love."

Jefferson chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Oh, like _what_?"

"Jefferson, we've all suffered at the hands of Regina. Perhaps you-"

"No!" Jefferson cut in. "_No one_ has suffered as I have. _No one_."

"Life doesn't have to be this miserable. It must be awful for you not having a family. I know how much you miss your daughter but-"

"_Grace_."

"But you can't change the past. I know, I've _tried_, but you can move on."

Move on? _Move on_. The words didn't make sense to Jefferson. He had lost everything at the hands of Regina and now there was no hope for getting it back. He didn't see any reason to try and get better. He was living a life without purpose and didn't have any plan to change that anytime soon. Jefferson lunged for the handgun that set atop the dresser next to his box of narcotics.

"Get out!" he snarled, pointing the barrel at the center of Killian's chest.

"Jefferson," Killian pleaded softly.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" he snapped, cocking the gun and taking several steps toward Killian. He motioned to the bedroom door with the barrel and Killian gave no more resistance, pulling the wad of money from his pocket. He tossed it on the bed and left without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

**so, um, here's an update. not that many people have really read/reviewed this. but enjoy if you do. /:  
**

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The first time Killian saw Jefferson was when Jefferson was on his way out of the liquor store. Killian was watching with piercing eyes as Jefferson, dressed in all black, walked home, one hand in his pocket and the other carrying a brown paper bag. Killian was drawn to him instantly whether it was because of Jefferson's careless movements, mysterious eyes hidden behind dark lashes, or his gorgeous pout that never seemed to leave his mouth.

The second time Killian saw Jefferson was when he held the door for him at the supermarket. Their hands brushed briefly and Jefferson forced himself to mutter a 'thank you'. As he walked past the produce he heard several of the town's women muttering things about the mysterious man in black.

The third time Killian saw Jefferson was at Granny's where he was sitting by himself in a booth. Killian was alone as well so he thought it appropriate to slide in on the opposite side of the table and welcome himself to a bite of Jefferson's pie. Jefferson didn't exactly take well to Killian joining in on his sulking session, left his payment on the table and left without a word. That's when Ruby pulled Killian aside and told her about Jefferson, his bad habits, his history, his occupation - for lack of a better word.

Ruby's story was simple: Jefferson lived alone and had no family. Because of this he was depressed and lived alone in the large house Regina gifted to him. After Emma left Storybrooke, Jefferson began drinking heavily. He would rent himself out to any of the men in town who would have him and in turn use the money to buy whatever he desired from Gold. Only a handful of people knew Gold was the one to go to for narcotics – as only a few in Storybrooke ever had the need for them.

Killian still wasn't sure how he'd gone so long and not noticed Jefferson around Storybrooke. Jefferson was entirely distinct; tall and always dressed in black and gray no matter the weather. A man like Jefferson was hard to miss.

It was a gray, snowy day outside when Killian decided to go talk to the mad man. He knew Jefferson was most likely at home and didn't waste time leaving his small apartment. Jefferson's house looked much like it always had; locked up tight with no signs of anyone having lived there. However, the smell of burning firewood and the smoke coming from the chimney gave it away.

Killian tapped on the door with his knuckles. He didn't really know why he was doing this or what he would say when Jefferson answered the door. He had ill feelings about the way things ended the last time they saw each other and he wanted _that_ off his chest, to say the least.

Jefferson was never one for dramatics. Okay, so he was, just not right away. He opened the door with a plain unreadable face. His eyes were their ever-vibrant blue and his pouty lips were chapped and dry. He was dressed much less lavishly than usual wearing, black jeans and a black V-neck sweater, the scar on his neck entirely visible.

"Go away," Jefferson said simply. Something about the way he said it made him sound like a child. As he went to close the door Killian caught it.

"I'd like to talk."

"About?"

"You know what about. Don't play games, Hatter." Killian pushed the door and walked into the large house, passed a perturbed Jefferson, and made his way to the kitchen to sit at the breakfast table. "I'll have that tea now."

Jefferson grunted but said nothing. He knew what Killian was capable of and didn't want to test _those_ waters. He stepped over to the stove behind Killian's back and set about making them tea. As Killian sat, he studied the table top and swiped his fingers through the fine white powder on the surface.

"I see you've been to see Gold," Killian muttered, his tone reflecting his disapproval of Jefferson's life choices. It wasn't any of his business but he still couldn't fathom what a man like Jefferson was doing wasting his days away getting high in this lavishly decorated house.

Jefferson's alert voice caught Killian off guard. "What does it matter to you what I spend my days doing? You've got no obligation to me."

"Why is the idea of someone genuinely caring such a foreign concept to you?"

"No one's ever bothered with me before. Now you come out of nowhere and ask me to open up to you? That isn't how it works, Killian. You've been using me—"

"I do not _use_ _you_," Killian scoffed appropriately.

Jefferson rolled his eyes as if Killian could see him. "You've been _hiring _me for the past few months without little concern. Why now?'

Killian spoke in a quiet, reserved manner. "I've wanted you to let me in for a long time, Jefferson. I just figured now is the best time to act because you're slipping further and further away from the reality of your situation."

Jefferson finally circled the kitchen and came over with two cups of steaming tea, sliding one in front of Killian and sitting down with the other. He looked up at Killian but said nothing. His facial expression was neutral, almost as if he was asking Killian to continue.

Killian took a long, exaggerated sip of his tea. He licked his lips, setting the cup down and knocking his rings against the side of the teacup idly. They sat in relative silence for several minutes until Jefferson could no longer stand it.

"Are you going to continue with what you were saying or act as if you didn't just allude to the fact that you have feelings for me?"

"Feelings," Killian scoffed. "How do you figure?"

Jefferson's brow rose. "Well, you said you wanted me to let you in for a long time and seeing as we've had sex before, it's certainly not an innuendo, is it? There's only one thing you could be talking about."

"Just because you choose to see me as a hardened man doesn't mean it's so."

"Why me?" Jefferson asked without much thought. The fact he asked such a thing revealed that he had, in fact, thought about it before. The truth was Jefferson wasn't really sure about how he was supposed to feel. A man who had been a pirate in a prior life to hire a person for their sexual services was not entirely unheard of. But one who had feelings for the person he hired wasn't exactly orthodox.

"Why not you? Jefferson, what makes you think you're so formidable?"

The Hatter's eyes rolled halfheartedly. "I'm a whore."

"You certainly aren't."

"I sell myself to men like _you_ so you can use my body however you wish for sexual pleasure. What do you call _that_?"

Killian thought for a moment. "Desperation."

Jefferson motioned toward the front door. "Get out."

"Jefferson—"

"Get out—"

"_No_!" Killian snapped suddenly, slamming his palm against the table. Their teacups rattled with the motion and tea sloshed over the sides of their cups. "Why is it so hard for you to get past what's happened? For god's sake, Jefferson, have some self-respect!"

"For what?" Jefferson sneered. "For you? I'd rather die."

"How 'bout for your daughter then?"

"Why? So I can remind myself that she's no longer mine? "D'you have any idea what it's like to watch her day in and day out happy with a new family... with a new father?"

"Why don't you _tell her_?"

"And destroy her reality? I'm trapped by knowledge, Killian. How cruel do you think I am? You think I'd inflict that awareness on my daughter? It's hard enough to live in a land where you don't belong but knowing it, holding conflicting realities in your head, will drive you _mad_."

"Then _do something_ about it!"

"I can't. I'm stuck. _Stuck_. Don't you understand that?" Jefferson asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Why are you so resistant?"

"Why are you so _insistent_?"

Killian rolled his eyes. "I've told you, sweetheart. I'm looking out for your best interest."

"Right now it would be in _your_ best interest to leave."

"Or what, you'll point a gun at me again? Because that worked so well last time."

Jefferson snickered. "You left, didn't you?"

"I was tired of your incessant whining. You know, Jefferson, I thought you were truly incapable of being happy and moving on. But now I've found that you're just a stubborn son of a bitch. A man who's not willing to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets." Killian stood then, walking out of the house silently as Jefferson sat, mulling the words over in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Jefferson wrapped his coat around his torso tightly with one arm as he pulled the door closed behind him. The weather today, and it seemed always, was bitterly cold and there was no doubt that the ground would sit under a fresh blanket of snow by the time the evening began.

Down the driveway, Jefferson slid into his black Cadillac comfortably, sighing as he turned the key and the engine purred to life. He turned the heater on full blast despite the fact that the car hadn't warmed up yet and pulled out of the drive way. He should really have fastened his seat belt but he wasn't going far and traffic tickets weren't a normal occurrence in Storybrooke.

Over the past week Jefferson had thought a lot about what Killian said. He began to wonder _why_ he did the drugs, drank the liquor, fucked the men. Initially it had been a way of escape and now it was just a way of survival. It's not like Jefferson _enjoyed_ doing those things, it's just that doing them had become habit and he didn't really know any other way out. So last night Jefferson came up with a resolution. Any time he felt like doing a line or four, every time he felt the urge to head toward the liquor cabinet, he was going to leave his house. He didn't really have another step beyond leaving, but leaving and just _driving_ gave Jefferson an undefined sense of calm.

As he drove along the interstate and toward town, the thought of visiting Killian briefly crossed his mind but doing so would be admitting defeat and Jefferson was never great at doing so which is partially the reason he had trouble confronting his downfall. The thing that struck Jefferson the hardest was when Killian told him to have some self-respect for Grace's sake if nothing else. And Jefferson _knew_ Killian was right and that hurt even worse than the fact that Jefferson couldn't bring himself to do such a thing.

Most of this came to light in the early hours one morning when Jefferson awoke, passed out on the living room floor from the overwhelming amount of substance in his body. He felt near death but managed to pull himself onto the sofa and decide that he would never again combine blow and an entire bottle of whiskey. _Ever_.

He also knew, in part, that he was in denial but he just couldn't realize _how_ in denial of his situation that he really was. Grace was gone. Grace had been gone for 28 years and then Emma came. But she was gone now too and the curse still lingered over Storybrooke. If Jefferson wasn't going to begin accepting that, he was going to end up dead.

He pulled into Granny's roughly 15 minutes later, keeping his head down as he walked through the front door. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, not that anyone would ever speak to him anyway. Word of Jefferson's personal life had gotten around town and aside from Killian and Ruby, no one volunteered to speak to him.

He settled into the corner booth with his back to the rest of the diner so he wouldn't have to confront the prying eyes and whispers. His hands rested atop the table and he stared at them for the longest while until Ruby could slip back from behind the counter and cross over to him. She slid into the opposite side of Jefferson's booth, a small smile settled on her burgundy lips.

"What are you doing here?"

Jefferson didn't raise his eyes as Ruby spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look at her and immediately regretted the decision to leave his house, his sanctuary. His social anxiety was at an all-time high and he was unsure whether or not his talk with Killian had anything to do with it. As much as Jefferson tried to ignore it he began to feel more and more like the brute of a man understood him. And to be fair Killian wasn't exactly a brute. He could be, but to Jefferson Killian always held some sort of standard for the way he treated the poor man.

It took several minutes for what Ruby asked to sink in and Jefferson's head jerked in a frantic movement.

"Just— uh, nothing," he muttered.

"You hungry?" Ruby inquired, ducking her head lower in attempt to meet his gaze. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I—" Jefferson paused in remembrance and without hearing an answer, Ruby patted Jefferson's hand and left momentarily. Jefferson exhaled slowly when she left, but moments later Ruby returned with a grilled cheese sandwich and a large pile of fries.

He cleared his throat and looked at her appropriately this time. "Thank— thank you," he nodded.

"You know, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

Jefferson smiled the slightest and gave Ruby a nod, just a tiny downward jerk of his head. "Thank you," he repeated. He faintly heard Granny's voice from behind him somewhere and Ruby slipped away once more, leaving Jefferson to enjoy his dinner.

He finished shortly, leaving a tip and payment on the table, and walked. He wasn't sure where he was going but it was in the opposite direction of both Gold's shop and the liquor store. He didn't know how he ended up at the boat dock because the walk was a blur but he was there. Maybe it was a subconscious move but Jefferson soon realized he was standing in front of the houseboat that Killian called home.

But he couldn't go in. He couldn't even _knock_ because he couldn't face Killian in the emotional state he was in. He knew better. He knew it would inevitably lead to a shouting match or a sass-off or maybe just more fantastic sex. But Jefferson was tired of sex. He was tired of shouting, he was tired of acting like everything would be _fine_ because it would never be _fine._ He was doomed to live a life in the large house Regina had given him – or rather, cursed him with. But if he could, Jefferson would trade his house, his car, his everything if he could be with his daughter because Grace was the only thing that ever gave his life meaning and now that she was no longer his, he didn't feel as if there was anything left to live for.

Jefferson had contemplated suicide before. He tried with pills but all that lead to was a physical state worse than a hangover and several days in the hospital. But once again when the three days were up, he found himself alone again in his huge home with no company other than the beautiful furnishings.

The longer that Jefferson remembered these things the more he believed that he should allow Killian into his life. It seemed like such an impossibility but he would at least have someone to talk to. He couldn't think of any reason why it would be a bad thing other than the fact that Killian would make him behave and deter him from using again. But maybe some discipline would do Jefferson some good. He thought about getting a job but it seemed fruitless because having sex with other men was a lot easier than work and the payment was immediate.

Jefferson attempted to find a hobby to occupy his time but by default he continued making hats which only led to another very low point in his life. The more he looked at hats, the more he thought about Wonderland, and the more he thought about Wonderland the more he thought about Grace, and he couldn't have that.

"This seat taken?"

A soft voice brought Jefferson out of his thoughts and he blinked, looking up to see those all-too-familiar leather boots. He heaved a sigh and shook his head as Killian plopped onto the bench beside him.

"What are you doing here?" Killian inquired.

Jefferson shrugged, clearing his throat before answering. "Thinking. Trying not to use."

Killian was taken aback both by Jefferson's words and the tone of his voice. Usually Jefferson was full of confidence but not this evening. They were quiet and almost timid as he shamefully admitted the truth.

"That's… that's good, Jefferson. I'm glad to hear that. Any reason for that?"

"I thought— I've thought a lot about what said these past few days."

"And?" Killian quipped.

"You—… you're right, I'm so self-destructive that I don't even remember who I _am_ anymore. All I think about is Grace. Or how I'd love to see Regina's body in the morgue.

"That makes two of us," Killian murmured, staring down at the wooden dock planks.

"It wouldn't solve anything," Jefferson sighed apologetically. "It would give me a few moments of happiness caused by revenge but I would still be left the same broken person in the end."

"So you're admitting that you're broken?"

Jefferson nodded, reaching up to adjust his scarf as the first snowflakes of the night began to fall. His voice cracked as he spoke. "I don't know _what to do_. I don't know how to deal with this, how to fix it. I-I thought about talking to Dr. Hopper but he doesn't know about the curse"

"You haven't got many options," Killian agreed with a scowl.

Jefferson ran a hand through his quaffed hair and murmured in agreement. "I need a distraction, a hobby, a purpose. Those are things I just can't have."

"You could find a hobby. Though I guess you've tried that before."

"Hence the name Hatter. Maybe I'll get a pet… a dog, name it Spot." Jefferson shrugged. "Just a little bit of normalcy. Anything, _anything_ to keep from feeling this pain because I can't, I literally _cannot_ deal with this any longer. It's crushing me. I feel as if I'm being murdered slowly, intimately, in the way that could bring me the most pain."

"Jefferson, I don't know what you're going through. I cannot _pretend_ to know how you must feel about losing your daughter. But I _do_ know how it feels to be alone, to feel like you'd give anything for just for someone to listen and understand. And if you'll let me, I could be that person."

"I wouldn't mind that," Jefferson replied in a whisper.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! And, um, in the off chance someone would like to RP with me, please let me know, because I have serious Jefferson/Grace feels and I don't really have anyone to RP that with me anymore so yeah. :(**


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